Elena
by teamfreewill82
Summary: Follow Lena, Damon, and Alaric on an adventure that none of them could have predicted. With twists, turns, and a love story for the ages. Elena. [Based on the movie Anastasia] [EDITED]
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from Anastasia that I have in this fanfiction. **

**A/N: Hi! I'm so glad you're here reading this! I really love this movie and the idea for this just came to me one day out of the blue. Please read and comment your thoughts; I really appreciate it. This is a **_**Vampire Diaries**_** version of the movie **_**Anastasia**_**, but you don't have to watch that movie to understand this fic. Feel free, though. **

**Prologue- **

Once upon a time… Okay, let's just cut that out right now. Because, after all, this is quite recent, and if you haven't already heard about this, one can only ask, where the hell have you been? Nonetheless, this story will be told to you whether you've known it beforehand or not.

So, the year is 1916, Bulgaria. A royal family lives in the one and only royal palace, and they include the King himself (Gray), his wife (Katerina), Gray's mother (Annette), and their two children, Jeremiah and Elena, the latter born as the eldest. Now even at only eight years old. With flowing mahogany hair and big brown doe eyes (plus intelligence to boot), she could have anything she wanted in an instant. She looked like a smaller, petite Katerina. Her twin brother had the same hair, shorter, and his eyes were very much like those of his father's. Annette was also beautiful, and her graying brown hair reached nearly to her waist, but was always fastened in a tight bun. She and Elena were, to put it simply, best friends, and they did everything together.

The family had a perfect life, and everyone in Bulgaria loved them dearly.

They were open and allowed many townsfolk into their palace as equals. But, as it turned out, letting so many strangers in may not have been the best idea… and _not_ everyone loved the king.

One night, King Gray held a ball for his children's birthday. The evening started out quite fabulously, and all the guests were enjoying themselves tremendously. But as the clock began to tick towards the very hour Cinderella herself dreaded, a figure not unknown to the royal family sauntered into the ball room, exuding his usual blend of confidence and malice.

Gray hurried down the steps to confront the man. Niklaus Mikaelson. The most horrid of them all, no sympathy or any feeling in him. Life had done that to him, left him crippled, in a way–his heart was numb from losing all of his family to disease. He had come to work in the palace before all of that nearly three years ago to work as a consul to the King himself, as he was very sharp and bright.

But after losing the majority of his family, when it came to confrontations, Niklaus wanted to fight, to make confrontations bigger than they were as an excuse to hurt others as he had been hurt. And after all of his kin had passed, he really lost it, and Gray was forced to have him removed from the palace. Now, Nik was a very proud man and wasn't one to take rejection or betrayal, as he saw it, lightly. He swore he would have his vengeance on the family and, when he found a way, he would come back to reap it. Apparently, he had found his way.

"_Niklaus! How dare you return to the palace? Leave at once!_"the king demanded, icily.

Niklaus only chuckled, seeming amused. _"Now, we both know I can't do that. You see, I made a promise to you three years ago, Gray, and I keep my promises. I swore I would make you pay for kicking me out into the cold, and I shall. Right now." _He placed his fingers in his mouth and whistled, a terrible, shrill sound, and a herd of men and women alike surged into the room, silent and quick, moving in a pack. They looked around hungrily at the crowds around them, eyes darting dangerously.

"_You forced my hand, Gray. And, if you have the time, you will find yourself regretting it._ Mark my words: _You and your family will die within the fortnight. I will not rest until I see the END OF THE PETROVA LINE FOREVER!_" The King, his anger building, stared bewilderedly at the crowd Nik had called in. Just as he was about to call his own guards, Niklaus raised an arm, pointing steadily at the family. His group needed nothing else, and about ten of them rushed forward, the rest scattered, attacking–_biting_–the guests.

Screams could be heard for miles as the family and attendees panicked–the men coming at them–they were preternaturally fast. How was that even possible? One jumped Gray, taking him down fluidly.

"_PAPA!_" his daughter screamed desperately. Nonie gathered Elena in her arms, both pairs of eyes tear-filled, while Katerina picked up Jeremiah, rushing down the hall opposite of the one Nonie and Elena hurried down. Elena stopped in her tracks. "_My music box!_" She ran to her bedchamber and picked the box up carefully from her night-table. The music box played the lullaby her grandmother sang to her every night, and because she'd have been leaving the next day for Paris, she wanted Elena to have that, to listen to the music and remember her when she felt lonely. Elena couldn't leave without it.

The screaming continued just down the hall, and a boy of about 13 years of age with raven-black hair and grey-blue eyes layered with terror bolted into the room and whispered urgently, _"No, no! In here! You'll get out safely this way!" _and he opened the wall, quickly moving them inside.

Elena's hand lost its grip on her birthday present from her grandmother and she cried out, "_Mama, my music box!_" but her grandmother only hushed her quietly, prodding her along.

The boy shut the wall as quietly as he could behind the pair, pressing his back against the wall. When one of _them_ entered, he puffed out his chest, feigning bravado, but the man only took the boy's arm in his cold hand and tightened it behind the boy's back. He snapped it like a twig before knocking him out and leaving him, crumpled on the floor.

Down the street, Elena and her grandmother were making their way, hurriedly, to the train-car platform when Niklaus appeared suddenly behind Elena. He'd jumped down from atop the bridge! He slipped on the ice but still managed to grab her leg, attempting to pull her down as well. Elena paled and shrieked, the ice breaking beneath both their pressing weights. Providentially, he slipped further beneath the ice and the harsh grip he had kept on Elena loosened; she managed to yank her leg away, in turn kicking him in the nose. The force of her blow caused him to fully submerge in the icy water and she and Annette bolted, running through the crowd to the nearest cart.

Annette jumped on, stretching her arms down to reach for Elena. "_Mama_!" Elena cried.

"_Elena! Grab onto my hands!_" But to no avail. The car continued on farther away, and Elena, in trying to run after it, tripped on the slippery ground, sending herself toppling. She smashed her head against the ice, rendering herself unconscious. Annette tried to jump off the train to get to her granddaughter, but was restrained for her own safety by the other passengers.

"_ELENA!_"


	2. Varna or Bust

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter One- 10 Years Later **

"A'right," Mrs. Brodsky said, opening the door to reveal the dark beyond it. It was currently around five in the morning, and it was time for Lena to begin her walk to the factory, where she'd be living and working for… well, probably the rest of her life. She waved goodbye to the children inside, she being the oldest at 18. "Bye, everyone!" she called to them, and scattered, "Bye, Lena!"s were thrown back to her.

"You have'ta go left. I got you a job at the factory. You better be grateful."

Lena tugged on her locket, the only possession she had from before she could remember, from before a woman had found her stumbling around Bulgaria with no idea of who she was ten years before and brought her… here.

"But, I… My family is in Paris," Lena told Mrs. Brodsky. "Not at the factory." She was referencing her locket, which read _Together in Paris_. Ever since she was little, she had wanted to leave Bulgaria and travel there, to find who she was.

"Oh, right, together in Paris," Mrs. Brodsky echoed, having heard this many times. She opened the gate. "You have a job and a place to live. Be grateful," she repeated in her husky voice. Lena walked through the gates, looking around at the snow covered world. "Together in Paris!" Mrs. Brodsky called mockingly to her, bursting into laughter.

Lena approached the sign about twenty paces away. It read on the left Fishermans' Village, and on the right Varna. She sighed out an aggravated breath. "'Be grateful,' she says. I _am_ grateful. Grateful to get away! 'Go left.' Well I know what's left. I'll be Lena the Orphan forever. But if I go right…" Lena plopped down into the snow mound resting against the wooden pole and studied her pendant. "Whoever gave me this locket must've loved me." She tilted her head back into the snow for a moment. "But this is crazy! Me, go to Paris?"

She turned her gaze up to the sky. "Send me a sign. A hint. Anything!" Suddenly, a dog leaped up from behind the snow pile, yapping. Lena jumped up, it having gotten hold of her raggedy old scarf. "Hey," she said to it, "I don't have time to play; I'm waiting for a sign!" The dog pulled her scarf to the right, to Varna. Her eyes widened. "A dog wants me to go to Varna. Okay," she said, her eyes on the moon, "I can take a hint."

Elena arrived in the town, heading straight for the ticket stand. She'd been waiting in line for nearly twenty minutes, and finally, it was her turn. Rubbing her gloved hands together in the cold she requested, "One ticket to Paris please."

"Exit visa," the man replied gruffly.

She looked up at him blankly. "Exit visa?" she said confusedly.

"No exit visa, no ticket!" he yelled, slamming the window down. Startled, she turned quickly away, lost and having no idea what to do next.

An old woman nudged her hip and whispered in a dry voice, "Find Damon. He can help."

Lena stooped to the woman's height. "Damon? Where can I find him?"

The woman hushed her. "At the old palace. But you didn't hear it from me." Elena nodded, eyebrows furrowed as the woman waddled away. So she had another plan, after all. Now all she had to do was find a man named Damon…


	3. Once Upon a December

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter Two- **

"Alaric, I can feel it. She's here somewhere," a man with stark-black hair and startlingly blue eyes told his companion.

"But we've gone through nearly every woman in town; where could our Elena be? I don't know, Damon, maybe we should just—"

"Don't say quit, 'Ric. We just have to keep trying. She's here," Damon repeated. Alaric shrugged his shoulders, discouraged, and followed Damon out of the old abandoned theatre that they had been searching for Elena in. Not literally–they'd been going through actresses and women who could pass for her. Needless to say, none could. "And don't forget," Damon added, pulling out an intricately decorated box, "we have this jewelry box, and one look at this and the Dowager Empress will think we brought her the _real _Elena."

Just then, they unknowingly passed Lena, asking around for Damon himself. "I'm looking for the Katherine Palace…" He bumped into her and she mumbled, "Excuse you," before continuing to the man, "Do you know where that is?"

Damon didn't even spare her a glance. "And before she even knows the distance," he went on to Alaric, "we'll be off with the ten millions levs…"

The man shooed Lena, telling her that the palace was vacant, but she asked a woman who directed her to it simply. She arrived there in just under five minutes. Matthias–the dog who had found her. Lena had decided she liked that name–nudged through a hole in the bottom of the boarded over front door, and Lena dropped to her knees, peeking her head in best she could.

"Matthias! Matt; where are you?" she whispered into the darkness. No response, of course, except a faint bark. She ripped off the wooden boards and crawled inside, looking around cautiously for the little white dog. When she had made it down the hall, another bark sounded, closer now. And there he was, lightly padding his way around the place. She scooped him up in her arms and continued gazing around.

"This is so… strange," Lena murmured to herself. "Something about this place is so… familiar. Like a memory from a dream." Lena paused in front a vase, decorated with bears standing on their hind legs. "Dancing bears," she said. Another featured angels. "Painted wings."

She moved into the next room and found it lead into a great hall, one seemingly for a ball. She set Matthias down gently and he scampered away excitedly. A painting of the old royal family hung on the wall, and the moonlight shone upon it with an eerie glow. She stepped down the stairs and twirled, as though wearing a party dress made to spin and flow.

"Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember… And a song, someone sings, once upon a December…" she sang softly, a melody coming into her mind that she hadn't even known she knew. "Someone holds me safe and warm," she continued, louder and louder, "Horses prances through a silver storm, figures dancing gracefully across my memory…"

She became lost in a memory–or a hallucination, she wasn't sure which was right–but she could see ghosts, it seemed, dancing through the ballroom along with her, all dressed finely and shimmering transparently. Lena spun, imagining she was dressed as they were.

"Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember. Things my heart, used to know, things it used to remember…" She pictured a man, extending his hand towards her kindly. He seemed familiar to her, so familiar, and she accepted his hand. "And a song, someone sings…" He kissed her forehead. She lowered her chin and he stepped back to join a woman and a young boy. Lena fell gracefully to her knees, showing them the respect she felt they deserved, not aware that he was indeed her father. "Once upon a December…"

"Hey!" a voice yelled at her. Her head whipped up, the spell broken. Her dress disappeared, and her old tattered clothes replaced it once again. "What're you doing in here?" A man and another descended the staircase on the opposite side of the room, and Lena made for the other set of stairs, the way she had came in. Matthias barked worriedly, running towards her. She made it to the landing, in front of the large portrait of the old royal family, before she stopped, knowing she was found.

"Just hold on a minute–What d'you think you're doing in here…" The man, Damon, stopped, his eyes flitting between the picture behind Lena and the girl herself. Elena was in it, and the resemblance… Lena looked at him, lifting her arms in an exasperated 'Well, you caught me. What are you going to do?' sort of way. Damon elbowed Alaric. "Do you see what I see?" he asked.

Alaric frowned. "A dog." Damon rolled his eyes as Lena crossed her arms.

"Are you Damon?" she asked.

Damon walked up the stairs and shrugged once, grinning. "Depends on who's looking for him," he told her.

"I'm Lena; I need travel papers. They say you're the man to see, though I'm not supposed to say who sent me." Damon smiled again and walked around Lena, examining her. Her eyes and head followed him. "Hey, what–why are you circling me? What were you–a vulture in another life?"

He faced her again. "I'm sor–Sorry, Lana."

"It's Lena. _Lena_," she corrected him.

"Sorry, Lena. It's just that you look a lot like… Never mind. Now, you said something about travel papers…?"

"Oh, yes. I need to get to Paris."

His smile widened. This girl was gold. "You want to go to Paris?" He gave 'Ric a knowing look. Everyone knew the story: The Empress lived in Paris, waiting for her Elena to return to her. "Let me ask you something–Lena, was it? Is there a last name that goes with that?"

"Well, actually… No. I don't know my last name. I was found wandering around when I was eight years old."

Damon, wondering how this could be any better, prodded, "And before that? Before you were eight?"

"Look, I don't remember, okay?" Lena said snappishly. "I have very few memories, if any at all, about my past."

"How convenient," Damon murmured slyly to Alaric.

"But I do know one thing, and that is that I have to go to Paris. So, can you two help me, or… not?"

"Well I suppose it's your lucky day…" Damon extracted from his pocket two tickets to see the circus. "Because I have three tickets to go to Paris right here." He waved them in front of her face; before she could scrutinize them too closely, he returned them to their original place in his jacket. "One for me and one for Alaric here."

Lena frowned. "But who's the last one for?" she inquired.

"Oh, that's reserved."

Lena's eyebrows lifted. "Reserved? Reserved for who?"

"The princess Elena, of course."

At that, Lena drew her brows together. "But… my family is in Paris. I _have_ to get there," she insisted.

Damon nodded faux with faux sympathy. Alaric stepped in, guiding Lena to a portrait of the Dowager. "Yes, but Elena has to as well, you see. To be reunited with her grandmother."

Damon smiled, an idea forming. "You know, you do kind of resemble her. The same brown eyes—"

"The Petrova eyes," Alaric chimed in. "Gray's smile—"

Damon lifted his hand to graze Lena's jaw line in a feather-light touch. "Katerina's chin."

Alaric took her hand. "And look, she even has the grandmother's hands!" Lena pulled away, glancing between the men confusedly.

"She's the same age, the same physical type…" Damon added.

"Hold on a minute!" Lena cut in. "Are you trying to tell me that you think _I'm_ Elena?" The idea was comical and absurd to the girl; it simply couldn't be possible. Right?

Damon raised his shoulders and crossed his arms. "All I'm trying to tell you is that I've seen thousands of girls all over the country and not _one_ of them looks as much like the Grand Duchess Elena as you do."

"I thought you were crazy from the beginning but now I know you're both mad." Lena turned to walk away and the men trailed behind her.

"Why?" Damon said. "You don't remember what happened to you."

Alaric nodded earnestly. "And no one knows what happened to Elena."

"You're looking for family in Paris, and her only family is in Paris. Haven't you ever thought about the possibility?"

Lena studied the portrait of the Petrova family. "That _I_ could be royalty? Well, it's kind of hard to think of yourself as a Duchess when you're sleeping on a damp floor…" When Damon tried to pet Matthias he growled lowly at Damon from Lena's arms; Damon frowned at the dog's nip. "…but sure, yeah, I guess it's every lonely orphan girl's dream to one day find out that she's a princess or something."

"And somewhere," Alaric said, "one little girl is." Damon turned and began to walk away, motioning for 'Ric to follow.

"Really wish we could help," Damon said, "but the third ticket is for the Grand Duchess Elena. Good luck." She stood in front of the portrait, thoughts racing and hands clasped at her chest. Could what the men have said be true?

Alaric and Damon made their way back down the stairs, and the former questioned Damon, "Why didn't you tell her about our plan?"

"All she wants to do is go to Paris, 'Ric. Why give away a third of the reward money?"

"I'm telling you we're walking away too soon," Alaric insisted.

"Not to worry; I got it all under control." After a moment he grabbed 'Ric's shoulder, telling him, "Alright, now walk a little slower…"

Elena reached forward and lightly ran her fingers along the portrait, feeling the Dowager's dress. It was like she could feel the fabric.

"Three, two, one—" and right on his cue, Lena called, "Damon!" He grinned broadly at Alaric, who chuckled. "Right in the palm of our hand…" Damon murmured.

Lena came running after them, thinking they hadn't heard her. "Damon, wait!"

"Did you call me?" he asked, glancing back carelessly.

"If I don't remember who I am then who's to say I'm not a princess or a duchess or whatever she is right?"

Damon brought his hand to his chin, feigning interest in Lena's train of thought. "Go on."

"Yeah, and if I'm not Elena the Empress will certainly know right away and it's all just an honest mistake." She crossed her arms, Matthias scurrying around feet.

"Sounds plausible," Damon told her.

Alaric slipped his slender arm around Lena's shoulders. "But, if you are the princess, then you finally know who you are and have your family back."

Damon couldn't help but laugh at that. Wouldn't that just beat all? He held out his hand. "You know, he's right. Either way it gets you to Paris."

Lena took his proffered hand eagerly. "Right!" Her excitement caused her to squeeze a bit too hard, and Damon's wrist audibly cracked. He let out an involuntary sound of pain and yanked his hand from hers, massaging his wrist. Lena gave him a strange look but forgot this when he recovered and announced, arms spread wide, "May I present, her royal highness the Grand Duchess Elena."

"Matt, we're going to Paris," Lena said, her dog's fur soft in her hands. He yapped as Damon said, "Uh, the dog stays."

Lena gave him a look, eyebrows raised. "What're you talking about; the dog _goes_."

Damon shook his head. "No; the dog does not go."

Lena balanced Matthias in one arm, one hand on her hip. "I say he's going."

"I'm allergic to dogs," Damon fibbed.

"Unfortunate for you. I am not leaving my dog."

Damon pushed his hands through his hair, frustrated. _How stubborn could you get?_ "You can come back for him after you meet the Dowager, Lena, let's just go!"

The girl shook her head, arms crossed. "Why would I make it harder on myself by having to leave him and then come all the way back—"

"Just leave the dog!" Damon repeated.

"I am not. Leaving. The dog," Lena told Damon again, making her words crystal clear as she set Matthias onto the floor.

Alaric stepped in between Lena and Damon, his hands raised. "Come on," he told them, "we've got a train to catch." Damon rolled his eyes at Lena before turning his back and walking off; she did the same. _How arrogant could you get? _


	4. Keeping Score

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter Three- **

Dipping his quill into a bottle of ink, Alaric studied the faux passport, accidentally nudging Matthias. He whined at Alaric, his blue eyes ever wider with the hint of a smile pulling up his dog mouth. Alaric grinned and, chuckling, tickled Matthias with the quill.

Lena was sat beside the large window of the train's small compartment, her eyes focused on the disappearing landscape as, to her left, Damon jammed a suitcase into the overhead compartment. Clearing his throat pointedly, he rocked into Lena, and she leaned back against the seat. She did not react to him, but Matt did, growling as Damon nearly sat on top of the pup in the seat in front of Lena's. Damon jumped up before he could squash the dog, and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, of course," he muttered, "Mutt gets the window seat." Matthias barked playfully at him, his tail wagging, but Damon ignored him and settled down beside Lena.

Lena sighed and pulled the locket out from beneath her shirt. Damon saw this and said, "Stop it with that thing! Sit up straight; remember–you're a Grand Duchess." Lena scoffed and frowned at him, crossing her arms to slouch lower. Damon threw up his hands in frustration. What was it with this girl?

"How is it that you know what Grand Duchesses do or don't do?" Lena asked him.

Damon smirked at her. "I make it my business to know." She adjusted in her seat and didn't reply; Damon shook his head. He attempted a civil tone, however. "Look, Lena. I'm just trying to help, alright?" Alaric, having heard this voice before, looked up from his journal and raised his eyebrows, chuckling to himself with an eye roll. Damon was leaning into Lena, his signature smile plastered to his lips.

But Lena was having none of Damon's attempts at flirtatious manipulation. "Damon," she said, sitting up.

"Yes?"

Lena feigned nerves and asked, "Do you really think I'm royalty?"

"You know I do," Damon told her.

"Then stop bossing me around!" she snapped at him, inches from his face in a manner of seconds. Taken by surprise, Damon looked at Alaric, his mouth agape in anger as Lena flopped back against the seat and resumed her previous position.

"She certainly has a mind of her own," 'Ric said, amused.

"Yeah," Damon grumbled. "I hate that in a woman."

Lena made a face at Damon that he did not see and, in his book, Alaric scratched another tally beneath Lena's name. Lena 30, Damon… three.


	5. Vamps On a Train

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**A/N: Damon is 23, Elena is 18, and Alaric is 36. If you're liking the fic, review and give me your thoughts!**

**Chapter Four- **

The train continued on its path as Damon reentered the compartment. His charge was still beside the window, reading now, and she did not lift her eyes from her book when he sat across from her. "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot," he told her.

At this, she glanced at him, briefly. "Well, I think we did too. But I appreciate your apology."

Damon lifted his eyebrows at the girl, bewildered. "Who's apologizing? I was just saying that—"

"Please just–stop talking, okay? We both know you'll only upset me." Lena closed her book and set it down next to her while Damon sat back, disbelieving.

"Fine. I'll be quiet if you will," he said, watching as Lena folded her arms.

"Alright. I'll be quiet," she agreed.

"Fine," he replied.

"Fine."

Leaning forward, he repeated challengingly, "Fine." Lena echoed this once more and the two glared at one other for a moment before Lena turned her dark eyes to look out the window. Damon made a sound of annoyance and turned away as well.

It was silent for only a moment before he heard, "You think you're going to miss it?"

Sharply, Damon turned to her and snapped, "Miss what; your talking?"

Her eyes flashed at him before dying down and gazing back out the window she gestured towards. "No! Bulgaria."

"Huh." Damon fiddled with his fingers. "Nope."

Lena looked back to him curiously. "But it was your home," she said, sitting forward.

"It was a place I once lived. End of story," he told her with an annoyed smile that showed he did not want her to speak any more on the topic.

Lena, however, did not see this. "Well then you must plan on making Paris your true home."

"What _is_ it with you and homes?" Damon questioned, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his feet on the seats across from him as Lena stood to avoid being kicked.

"Well–for one thing it's something that every _normal_ person wants." She tried to pass Damon, but his legs restricted her, of which he did not drop to allow her through. He watched her efforts as she spoke, cool amusement evident on his handsome features. "And for another thing it's–it's a thing where you—"

"What?" he asked, acting interested.

Lena, done with trying, climbed onto the seat. "Forget it!" she spat at him.

Damon got to his feet in aggravation just as Lena dropped to the floor and the door opened. "Oh, thank goodness it's you," she said to the very confused and wide eyed Alaric. "Please, remove him from my sight." Behind her, back facing the two, Damon was mocking Lena, portraying his anger as a child might.

"What have you done to her?" Alaric asked Damon.

"Me?" Damon faced him. "It's _her_!" Lena threw up her arms and exited the train car with a disbelieving, "Ha!" Damon mimed her actions in his own frustration.

"An unspoken attraction?" Alaric said knowingly to Matthias, who he held in his hands.

Damon turned on Alaric, his eyes stretched wide. "_Attraction_? To that skinny little brat? Have you lost your mind?" He shoved past 'Ric and slid the door closed as his friend grinned. Through the door, Alaric could hear Damon mutter, "Attraction. Incredible." With his fists clenched, he stalked in the opposite direction Lena had gone.

Outside in the freezing cold, two men barely skimmed the surface of the snow laden ground as they ran in a supernatural speed towards the train.

Alaric made his way down the hall, content with his handiwork with the passports–until he overheard a conversation between a nearby man and woman. "The travelling papers were blue, now they're red," her husband was saying. Alaric's smile dropped from his lips and he stared at the blue ink on his forged passport. His jaw unhinged and he scurried down the hallway just as a guard came calling to see the papers; the couple happily obliged.

Alaric slid the door of their compartment open to see Damon, seated again and reading his passport, and Lena across from him, covered by her jacket and fast asleep. "The passports, Damon; they've been changed," Alaric said, working to keep his voice down. "They're _red_."

Damon jumped up in alarm. "_Red_?" he echoed in disbelief.

"I propose we move to the baggage car," Alaric said, "quickly, before the guards come." Shoving their belongings into his friend's arms Damon responded, "I propose we get _off_ _this_ _train_!" The men pulled their bags from the compartment above their heads and Alaric disappeared out the door.

Matthias, next to the window and the bag his mistress was using as her pillow, yapped at the blur of figures on the opposite side of the glass. Damon picked up the puppy and dropped him to the floor, then bent over to wake Lena. "Hey," he said, holding her shoulders. Her hand flew up in a fist, sending an effective punch to Damon's face; he fell back, teetering on his feet as he held his nose. Lena awoke and, seeing Damon, pretended to be apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else—" She widened her eyes and smirked. "Oh, it _is_ you. Well, that's okay then."

Damon, too anxious to be upset, only grabbed their bags and Lena's hand. "Come on; we have to go."

"Where're we going?" Lena asked him while they stumbled out the door, followed closely on their heels by Matthias.

"I think you broke my nose," he ignored her, going after the waiting Alaric.

Lena pulled her jacket on and shook her head, small bag in hand. "Men are such babies," she muttered, following them.

The baggage car was full of not only bags but wooden crates and chairs and sacks of God knows what. The whole place smelled like rotting wood and mold. Lena wrinkled her nose upon entering. Damon, on the other hand, said, smiling, "Yes. This will do nicely."

Alaric set the bags on the floor and rubbed his hands across his arms where he felt goose bumps already forming. "She'll freeze in here."

"She can thaw in Paris," Damon replied.

"The _baggage_ car?" Lena spoke up then. The boys tried their hand at appearing innocent, an everyday endeavor. "There wouldn't be any trouble with our travel papers now would there?"

"Of course not, Your Grace," Damon assured her. He took her bag from her and held it out for Alaric, who hurried to take it. "It's just that I–I'd hate to see you forced to mingle with all those commoners."

Lena crossed her arms. "Well, maestro, I'm so glad you take such good care of me," she said, mock sweetly.

Just then, the train came to an abrupt halt and Damon tripped onto Lena, pulling them both to the dirty ground. "What was _that_?" he said, breathless from the fall. Alaric, having made his way to the door-less end of the train, said, "I don't know, but there goes the dining cart." The train had become disconnected–they no longer had a conductor for the baggage car.

On the other side of the car, Matthias was barking; Lena was trying to get to her feet. "Get off me!" she shouted at Damon, who was still on top of her, his legs on her back and a suitcase pressing into his chest. She shoved herself up and tipped him, both emitting screeches of pain.

"Uh, Damon?" said Alaric, staring out the window of the opposite side of the car at the engine room.

"What?" Damon snapped, gripping his aching ankle.

"I think someone has flambéed our engine."

Damon hurried over to Alaric and opened the door, stripping off his jacket. Amid Matthias's nervous barks, Damon gave Lena the jacket and jumped onto the engine car, grasping the metal ladder for his life. "Wait here; I'll check it out," he called back to the other two.

He jumped carefully across the top of the moving car, dropping himself down onto the floor where, not three feet in front of him, the coal-fueled engine was consumed by fire. Sparks from the flames sprayed Damon and he shielded his face, calling, "Anybody here?" Behind the engine he saw an arm, then a chest, a pool of blood–He jumped back in fright. What the _hell_ had done that? The man's neck was crusted with blood both dry and drying, but Damon did not have even a moment to spare being terrified. The engine's temperate meter, covered with glass, cracked from the extreme heat and the whole thing exploded just as Damon managed to jump backwards.

"We're going way too fast!" Lena yelled, almost falling back as Damon fell suddenly from above onto the chains connecting the cars. He was powdered with soot that matched his raven hair. Lena and Alaric made room for Damon to jump into their car; he did so and told them, "We're going to have to jump." He pulled open the large door, the one made for loading things onto the car, and Lena was still trying to understand what was going on.

"Did you say _jump_?" she said. Below them was over 200 hundred feet of nothing, and at the bottom of the ravine were only trees and tightly packed snow. "After you."

Damon, on his knees beside Lena, rolled his eyes. "Fine. Then we'll have to uncouple the car."

The men were gripping the side of the train, ready to finish the job their master had set them out to do. Trees whizzed past at top speed; they didn't notice a thing. They moved along the car, appearing in the doorway a second after Damon had unconnected the cars. They had finally stopped, and were relieved… until, that is, Matthias saw the men and barked loudly in short, urgent yaps. Lena looked at him and began to ask him what was wrong, but stopped when Damon said her name. He had seen the two men.

One had chopped dark brown hair and eyes of the same color; the other was the opposite–blond with green eyes. If they hadn't been so terrifying, Lena would have thought them to be attractive. But as it were, they moved like cats… or rather, lions–aware they have the upper hand in pouncing on the antelopes. It frightened Lena and she did not have any idea who they were or what they would do. Well, she had an idea, and it was not very pleasant.

She gripped Damon's arm, digging her nails in. "Damon…" The men opposite them walked casually forward, their jaws set. "Damon," Lena repeated. "What. The hell."

He shook his head. They had to do something. And _fast_. He looked around, looking for anything that could be useful. The sacks were useless, and Lena could never lift the crates. Chairs? Chairs wouldn't do anything. Maybe… Matthias was hiding behind Alaric and eyed Damon as he inched to the side of him, towards the wooden chairs. Swords and daggers were weapons. He didn't have any steel, but…

"He's been waiting a long time for this, girl," the blond one said, grinning wickedly at Lena.

"Who? Who are you guys?" she said at them, trying her best to sound strong.

"You know. Don't pretend otherwise. You're going to die, just like your mommy did, and just like your daddy."

At this, Lena's eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing. "Wha—_who are you_?" she repeated. "Who sent you?"

Damon grabbed a chair and smashed it against the wall; Lena and Alaric gasped at the sudden smash and the two men in front of them suddenly became even more fearsome, their skin beneath their bloodshot eyes darkening as red veins appeared. Their mouths opened, where pearly white fangs were visible. Lena did not have the time to care. What was Damon _doing_? And who had sent these–these monsters to kill her? Had _they_ been the ones to kill her parents?

Damon again crashed the chair against the wall, causing it to splinter; the men jumped at him and Lena blocked their way, but they only threw her to the ground several feet away, as though she weighed nothing more than Matthias, and Alaric a moment after her.

Damon saw this exchange and stared at the men. The leg of the chair, its ends pointed raggedly, was gripped in his white fist. "What the hell are you." It came out less like a question in his nerves, and the two monsters smiled unkindly at him, bearing their fangs.

The brown haired man ran his tongue over his and laughed, as if amused. "We're vampires."

Damon's eyes couldn't have been wider if he had tried. He had heard of these creatures briefly in stories, but never had he believed they existed. He thought them a silly superstition, but now, here in front of him… He steeled himself. It appeared as though he had been correct in choosing the 'stake.'

"Well, isn't that nice for you." He glanced at Lena, crumpled on the floor. "Did you kill her parents?"

The vampires snickered. "We don't answer to you, kid. Put down the stake and we'll kill you quick," Blond Vamp said.

"See, that isn't good enough for me. Did you kill her family?" Damon said again, unflinching.

Brown Vamp licked his lips and shook his head. "I've had enough of you." He eyed the stake in Damon's hand but ignored it, stepping towards Damon. Instinctually, Damon flung his hand upwards, impaling the vampire right into his heart. The man's mouth fell open and his skin began desiccating all at once. Damon's stomach lurched but he knew he'd have to do it again. The second vampire was on him in a second, and Damon was unable to help himself.

Just as the vampire opened his mouth wide, teeth glinting even in the dim light of the train car, his expression turned into one of surprise, his dark eyes fading back to green as they popped out. Guttural sounds of gurgling blood escaped from his throat, and from his chest protruded the tip of the stake. Damon grimaced as he let the body slide to the floor, and in front of him stood Lena, her shaking hands covered with blood. She turned her stunned eyes up to Damon, who stared at her. He opened his mouth, stepping forward, but just then, they both heard the rustling of clothes coming from their sides. Alaric was awake.

"Hey… Did I miss much?" he asked, eyeing the corpses in awe-tinged horror.


	6. You Can Learn to Do It

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter Five-**

The group knew they were in the middle of a snow-laden nowhere, but knew also that standing around would solve nothing. So, they went forward on foot from their abandoned train car. It was the following day, and the previous day's excitement had left the three in a rather over-stimulated mood; not one of them was tired.

"Are we going to _walk_ to Paris?" Lena inquired aloud sarcastically.

"We'll take a boat in Germany," Damon told her.

"Oooh. Then we're walking to _Germany_."

He rolled his eyes and said, "No, Your Grace. We're taking a bus."

"Oh. A _bus_… That's nice." They strolled through the woods from the snow, dragging their bags the entire way, and then, in the distance, they could see a roofed bridge crossing a river. Nearly there, they heard Alaric mumbling about a Caroline. "Who's Caroline?" Lena asked, seated on her bag.

"Who is Caroline? She is the most beautiful…"

Damon stepped forward, saying pointedly, "_'Ric_—"

"…woman in the entire world," Alaric said anyway.

Damon grabbed Alaric's arm and said through his teeth, "'Ric, ix-nay on the aroline-cay!"

"And she is the Empress' first cousin!" Alaric added.

"But," Lena stood, "I thought we were going to see the Empress her_self_." Behind her, as Lena was trailing Alaric, Damon was pushing back his hair, feeling the walls of the entire operation closing in. "Why are we going to see her _cousin_?" Lena continued, oblivious to the rising panic from Damon. Alaric, lost in his thoughts of Caroline, ignored Lena and scooped Matthias into his arms happily.

"Damon…" Lena turned to face said man, her arms crossed.

"Well, nobody gets near the Dowager Empress without convincing Caroline first." He tired to smile but was aware it came out as more of a grimace.

"Oh no. Not me. No. No; nobody every told me I had to _prove_ I was the Grand Duchess!"

Damon kept his cool, thinking that if he did she would as well. "Look, I know—"

He was wrong. She prodded at his chest with her finger, pushing him back. "Show up, yes, look nice, fine, but _lie_?"

"You don't know it's a lie!" he said. "What if it's true?" Lena turned away from him and he took her arm in his hand; she yanked herself from his grasp. "Okay; so there's one more stop on the road to finding out who you are." She glared at him. "I just thought this was something you had to see through 'til the end no matter what."

"But look at me, Damon," Lena said, pulling at her rag of a dress, "I'm not exactly Grand Duchess material here!" Damon threw up his hands and Lena yelled in aggravation, stalking away to where Alaric was standing on the bridge overlooking the water. He handed her the flower he'd been fiddling with and they looked down at the water. "Tell me. What do you see?" he said.

She saw Alaric, and her puppy sitting on the railing, but ultimately, she saw herself. "I see a skinny little nobody, with no past and no future."

"I see an engaging and fiery young woman," Alaric told her, "who on a number of occasions has shown a regal command that is equal to any royal in the world. And I have known my fair share of royalty."

Lena smiled as Damon joined the two. "So, are you ready to become the Grand Duchess Elena?" Lena's brief smile dropped and she glared at him again, as did Alaric. "What?"

"There is nothing left for you back there, Lena," Alaric told her retreating figure. "Everything, is in Paris."

She thought for a moment. He was right, wasn't he? If she didn't take this chance, she would never know who she was or if she even had a purpose. It was now or never. It was her chance.

"Gentlemen," Lena said, turning to face them, "start your teaching." Alaric grinned, and Damon couldn't help but let out a breath of relief.

"I remember it well," Alaric told her. "You were born in a palace by the sea."

Lena's eyes widened in disbelief. "A palace by the sea?"

He nodded, smiling at her. "Yes, that's right. And, you rode horseback when you were only three."

Damon crossed his arms, leaning against the wooden side of the bridge. He added, "It was white."

Alaric rolled his eyes at him and gently took hold of Elena's arm. "We've lots to teach you and our time is running quickly. Let's continue."

"And remember, Lena," Damon said, "if I can learn to do it, you can learn to do it."


	7. The Tent and the Waltz

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter Six- **

The bus stopped a block from the ship; with the men carrying the bags, Lena, Damon, and Alaric made their way there. The sun was high in the early morning sky–as their journey to the docks had taken them into the night–and Lena couldn't help but have the sense that the day held much promise.

She had been taught everything about both 'her' extended family and her parents, along with the court; with her acquired confidence she didn't feel so nervous anymore. It was a nice feeling, and her smile seemed to show as radiant as the sun.

The threesome had their supper together–a simple fish soup accompanied by a slice of rye bread–and talked about much as they dined: Lena's success, the upcoming meeting between she and the Duchess, and even about the orphanage. As the sun set, Lena could feel her excitement-fueled energy wearing thin, and she had to excuse herself. She had made it nearly to her room when Damon came down the hall, calling her name. She faced him curiously.

"Here–I bought you a dress," he told her proudly, holding it out for her to take.

Lena studied it for a moment, eyebrows drawn together. An amused smile appeared on her lips. "A dress?" The thing was a shade of ruby, accented by a white collar and sleeves. It was hideous and she knew it couldn't possibly fit on her. "It looks like a tent."

He snorted and grinned. "Come on. Just put it on." He stuffed it into her hands and walked away with a last glance behind himself and a shake of his head. She smiled and lifted the dress as she entered her room. So much for sleep.

"A dress…" she murmured, laughing to herself as her puppy snuffed at her heels. What could she do with this?

Above deck, 'Ric and Damon played a rousing game of checkers. The former called checkmate and Damon rubbed his neck. He'd never been too good at this game; why he kept playing only to lose was beyond him. Alaric glanced up at the sound of a throat cleared. Damon's eyes were still glued to the board as he attempted to come up with a strategy to begin the next round. He was pulled from his train of thought, however, when his friend jumped up and exclaimed, "Marvelous!" Damon turned to see Lena, wearing his dress. Not _his_ dress, but the dress he'd _bought_. For her. Damon's thoughts stumbled over one another. One came into focus, though–she looked _beautiful_.

Lena had tied back her hair into a white bow, made from the fabric, clearly, that she had cut from that of the billowing dress sleeves. She'd removed the collar and put her usual belt around the waist, accentuating her slim hips. She twirled and took Alaric's outstretched hand. "And now," he said, "you are dressed for a ball."

In front of them, Damon was just then standing, ever so slowly, as he stared in awe at Lena. How had he not noticed the way her eyes perfectly matched the hazel of her hair, so dark against the red of the dress? He wanted to snap out of it, but couldn't seem to think of how to go about doing so.

"And you will learn to dance as well," Alaric was saying. Matthias skidded by and jumped onto Damon's former chair as Alaric pulled Damon by the arm towards Lena.

"Damon, you will teach her," Alaric said firmly. Damon smiled, somewhat awkwardly, as he managed, "I'm not very good at it." Alaric rolled his eyes; it weren't as though he himself could teach Elena–he had to be able to see how she was doing, he told Damon, and give pointers! He stepped back and counted off beats as the two joined hands, her right on his shoulder, his left on her waist.

"One, two, three—No, no, stop. Lena, _you_ don't lead. Let _him_." She blushed and nodded, setting her hand in Damon's.

_Okay_, Damon told himself, _stop acting like such a wuss._ _It's _Lena_. _"That dress is really beautiful."

She tilted her head, those eyes of hers bright as they looked up into his. "You think so?"

He nodded and, feeling his confidence returning, they spun as he said, "Yes. I mean, it was nice on the hanger but… it looks even better on you. You should wear it."

"I _am_ wearing it," she said.

And there it went, flying off the ship into the water. Damon felt as though if he squinted enough, he could just barely see it. "Right, of course." He managed a laugh to shake it off. What. The. _Hell_. "I'm just trying to give you a, um—"

"A compliment?" Lena suggested, mildly entertained. Why was he so nervous?

Damon smiled and, his blue eyes roaming her face, murmured, "Of course, yes."

Alaric watched this exchange, a sudden thought coming forth as Damon twirled Lena, a large smile on her lips and his own. She was radiant. She emanated beauty and wit, and he had taught her everything she needed to know to strengthen what was already there. Damon, his best friend of many years… How had he not seen that they perfectly complemented each other? He had planned it all, but he had forgotten the most important aspect of any young person's life–romance. Matthias jumped into 'Ric's lap as Alaric said to himself, "I shouldn't have let them dance…"

Neither Damon nor Lena noticed this. "I'm feeling a little dizzy. Kind of light headed," the latter said.

Damon nodded as they came to a stand still, frozen. "Me too. Maybe we should stop."

Lena smiled a small smile. "We already have." The sun was low in the sky, turning it the low red of her dress, and he couldn't seem to see anything but Lena. It was a strange knowledge, and he couldn't process it. "Lena, I…" He had the newfound want to lean forward and kiss her–but he couldn't. There was a _plan_. He had to think of everyone, not just himself. For once.

"You're doing fine," he settled, giving her one last glance before dropping his gaze and moving past her.

Lena, evidently disappointed, stood still, wanting to call to him but not sure what she could even say.


	8. Lights Out

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter Seven-**

The ship moved slowly but surely through the icy waters of Germany, its progress to Paris moderate. The funnels exhausted smoke by the billows into the dark blue sky, blending into the clouds partially covering the moon.

In their cabin, Lena and Alaric were sitting on the patterned rug, Lena combing through her hair, a blanket on her knees. Alaric sat across from her, looking pallid as he leaned against the dank wall. "Are you alright?" Lena asked the man.

He waved his hand as Matthias jumped and sniffed around. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just riddled with envy," Alaric said. He gestured to Damon. "Look at him." Damon was passed out on a cot on the other side of the small space, not noticing the barking pup as he snuggled into his bag.

At that moment, Damon turned onto his back, sending the bag, and Matt, to the floor. Matt whined as a golden and green box of sorts slipped out of the bag onto the floor. He grasped it in his little teeth and scampered to Lena. She took the piece, patting Matt's head, and studied what he'd brought her.

"Pretty jewelry box, isn't it?" Alaric said with a yawn.

Lena, distantly, echoed, "Jewelry box. Are you sure that's what it is?" Memories from days before, dancing in the palace, came into her mind, and she twirled the box in her hands.

"What else could it be?"

"Well… something else. Something… special." Feeling Matthias licking at her toes, the spell was broken once again as Lena giggled, grinning at him. To Alaric, who was climbing into the top of their bunk bed, she continued, "Is that possible?"

"Anything is possible. You taught Damon how to Waltz didn't you?" At the memory, Lena had to force a smile. It had felt like was over before it had even started, dancing with Damon, and yet endless. She did her best to ignore her pondering mind and clapped her hands for Matt to jump into; he did so. Lena shut off the light and set her puppy into her bed, then stretched out as well, pulling the thin cover over herself.

"Sleep well, Your Majesty," 'Ric said, leaning over the side of his mattress. Lena smiled to herself. "Good night, 'Ric." She told good night to her dog as well and cuddled him to her as she turned on her side.

They knew they had to succeed. Failure was _not_ an option. Not where He was concerned. If that bitch and her entourage made it out alive this time around… They had evaded the other idiots but not them. It was over.

_Pleasant dreams. Lights out._


	9. The Storm

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter Eight- **

All was silent. On the other side of the wall, waves lapped against the ship's siding, the only sound for miles. The beginning of a storm. It would have been eerie to Lena, had she not been fast asleep, cozy in her old bed, much better than the floor she had commonly slept on at the orphanage.

The newly-sent vampires had a plan, unlike the previous two, but knew what had to be done. Kill the girl and her escorts. The quickest way, He had said, would be to suck her dry. But, the most petrifying way would be to compel her off the side of the ship, all the while aware of what she was doing, and without the ability to speak. And that's exactly what they were going to do.

One stood outside of the room while the other opened the door without a creak, the lock pathetically useless in his super-strong grip. He glanced around the closet-like room. A man, he could see, was there on the floor, the girl in the bed, and another man above her. He crept inside and stepped towards her fragile human frame, so breakable. It was almost sad. For her. He set his hand on her shoulder and, as she opened her eyes, expecting one of her friends, the vampire murmured, staring hard into her dark eyes, "You will not scream. Do not make a sound and do not fidget. Get up."

Lena, her eyes pulled wide, did as she was told, the strange compulsion irresistible. She could not even look back at the sleeping forms of her friends as she was ushered from the room.

The hallway was without light as Lena was jabbed forward by the monsters. Her body was stiff, and her throat and tongue felt thick.

Matthias squirmed, stretching his body, and opened his bright eyes, expecting to see Lena in bed with him. She wasn't. He stood quickly, barking aloud. He jumped onto Damon, licking at his face and yapping to wake him. Damon waved at the dog tiredly but sat up, disheveled. "Matthias." He held him in his hands, confused. "Matt, what is it?" He did not speak dog; the barking meant nothing but evident alarm. The dog turned his head for Lean's mattress, though, and Damon followed his gaze as a blast of lightning and thunder rocked the ship. "_Lena_." She was gone. "Lena!"

Matthias ran to the door and clawed at it, for the men had shut it. Damon stumbled to his feet and out the door, crying out Lena's name. While the pup could not make it over the first step of the stairs Damon was too panicked to notice. He bounded onto the top deck, his fists clenched. If something happened to that God damned girl, he was going to lose it on the first person he saw. Most of all himself.

The storm was slapping hard pellets of water into Lena's eyes; she could hardly see straight. But the men kept pushing her along. What were they going to _do_? They stopped, and she stared at them, lips pressed together.

"You will jump overboard, and allow yourself to drown. Without a sound. Go."

Lena was forced to swallow her cries, silent tears falling from her eyes. Where were Damon and Alaric? She stepped out onto the edge of the ship, the water raging some 30 feet below her. She would die. If luck was given to her, perhaps she would even die as soon as she hit the water.

Damon slipped on water, his shoeless feet slapping on the deck. Where _was_ she? Thunder resounded through the night, a flash of lightning appearing. It lit up the deck just as he shouted, "LENA!" He was afraid his voice would be carried away by the gusts of wind, but he found it didn't matter, because there was beautiful Lena. Standing on the ship's edge. He saw two men standing behind her on the deck and he had the feeling they weren't helping. Vampires. _Shit_.

He ran as fast as his feet could carry him to the look-out tower, climbing the ladder against the wind's friction to reach the top. He had one shot at this. He gripped the rope and allowed himself to fall, with only a push from his legs towards her. He sailed downwards and scooped Lena from the side of the ship; her eyes could not have been wider as he dropped her onto the deck.

The vampires shouted at him, their eyes menacing, their faces veined. "What the hell!" Damon managed to say breathlessly. "You guys are like _weeds_." The one vampire hissed and lunged; Damon ducked. He didn't even have a plan, didn't have stakes. What was he _doing_? What the hell else killed these damned things? He didn't have anything holy… The sun? Didn't they burn in the sun? But they knew that. They wouldn't be here, not with the sun about to rise any moment. In these few seconds of rising panic, Damon quickly studied the men; both mockingly wore crosses around their necks on chains, and lapis lazuli rings were on their fingers. Beautiful, if it hadn't been for the men they adorned.

Perhaps those were the key, the rings, serving as protection from the sun's rays. Vampires exist, why not magic? It was a chance, but if he could get the rings from them… How? Lena, he could see, was still immobile, clearly fighting everything within her to stand back up on that ledge. Compulsion. He didn't have any time.

"You guys must be hungry," he heard someone say. He then realized it was _himself_ speaking. "All this work; your… boss probably doesn't feed you much. What're you guys, lap dogs?" The vampires glanced at each other, fangs exposed. Before they could say or do anything he continued, "I mean, you guys are _vampires_ right? Unstoppable…?"

"How ignorant. We are nothing compared to Him," the man on the left said.

"Is that right?" Damon replied, trying to sound incompetent.

"He is an Original, fool. He is like nothing you have before seen. The Petrovas deserve this punishment, and we do what it takes to fulfill it. Do not dare to make assumptions about what he does."

"Never. It's just, I bet he's busy, is all. But, whatever you guys say." If this 'reverse psychology' worked, Damon vowed to… to… Well, do something kind for someone that wasn't himself. The following events occurred in a procession such that Damon couldn't have explained them even if he had wanted to. Which he didn't, but nuance.

The vampire stationed across from him on the right lunged, his restraint given up at the taunting. The other was more controlled, his eyes glowing with—Was that panic? Impossible. They were unfeeling.

Damon stood stock still, waiting for it to happen, what he knew was coming. But it had to be done, if he were to get this done. The man grabbed Damon's shoulders, bringing his eye-teeth down, down, down… As soon as he felt the tip of the teeth Damon was there, his hand gripping the vampires hand and ripping, _clawing_ the ring from his finger. The excruciating pain he felt was momentary, as the vampire had fallen back, but blood was drawn nonetheless. Damon clamped his hand over his bloody neck, of which felt like it was on fire. It was ironic that this thought occurred to him because, at that moment, the sun lifted high in the sky.

Both vampires looked, appearing terrified, and the one was engulfed by burns of which erupted into flames at the insurmountable heat. The vampire immediately began screaming in horrible pain, blisters appearing on his skin, everywhere, until he exploded.

The second vampire was seething, ready to jump Damon when Lena came up from behind him and tore the ring from his finger as well. The compulsion over her was broken. The burned up vampire must have been the one that had ordered her about, and she was free.

The vampire departed in much the same way as the first, bloodcurdling screams and all, while Lena and Damon stood back in shock. Damon broke from this state first, hurrying over to the girl. "Lena, are you hurt?"

Lena shook her head, her eyes distant, but just as soon, they began to fill. "Lena…" Damon tried.

"I don't understand. Why? Why _me_? I'm _cursed_…" She clutched tightly onto Damon's shirt in her slim hands, fists balled. She dropped her head onto his chest, her eyes squeezed shut as she cried. Because it was the only thing he could think to do, Damon cradled her petite, trembling form against himself. He rested his cheek against the smooth hair on the top of her head and murmured, "It's alright. I promise. You're safe now." He prayed silently for this to be the truth, the dying wind of the storm rushing in his ears.


	10. Questions Plus Truth Equals Shopping?

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter Nine- **

Annette's manor stood regally, bathed in the Paris sunlight. Birds flew overhead, the scene so peaceful that it seemed almost to be a painting. On the inside, however, the woman herself was becoming agitated.

"Ah, yes, I remember it so well," the young woman was saying. She wore a pink dress with a white collar, her auburn hair pushed back with a band. Beside her stood Caroline, as beautiful as she always was, appearing excited. So far, the girl had answered all of her questions about Elena correctly. The only one unimpressed with this French girl was Annette, seated in a lounge chair in the shade of her room.

The woman counted on her fingers and said, "Uncle Yoshin was from Plevna, Uncle Boris was from Sofia…" She smiled widely, animated. "…and every spring—"

"We would take picnics by the shore on Sunday," the Empress concluded, using her cane to push herself to her feet. Her hair was tied into its severe bun, her eyes dark. Beside her on the table, a photograph of her granddaughter was propped. "Haven't you anything better to do?"

"Um, you have to leave now," Caroline said to the upset girl, nudging her quickly out of the room. She turned back to her cousin with her lips pursed worriedly, then hurried to show the actress out of the manor.

"No more," Annette murmured to herself.

"Oh, I must say I'm so sorry; I thought that one was real," Caroline said as she reentered the room, bearing a tray of tea. Annette took her seat once more and Caroline continued. "She was _real_, of course, I mean she was human, but not _our_ real." Annette rested her forehead against her hand, feeling a migraine form. "But we won't be fooled next time," Caroline continued. "No, I am going to think of new questions, really hard questions."

"No," Annette told her sharply. "My heart can not take it any more." She rose from her chair. "I will see no more girls claiming to be my Elena."

Just that day, the three friends were arriving in La Havre, Paris to meet the Empress, hopes high. "Where's Uncle Boris from?" Damon quizzed Lena in their taxi.

Lena ignored his badly failing efforts to calm her and said, "What if Caroline doesn't recognize me?"

"She _will_. You're Elena," he assured her.

"But it's just—" Lena sighed.

"What?"

"Well, three days ago I didn't have any past at all and now I'm trying to remember an entire lifetime."

"That's why you've got me." Lena looked down at her lap, playing with her hands. "Come on. You've got this," Damon said. "No doubt in my mind. But _you_ have to believe in yourself too." After a moment, Lena nodded and attempted a smile. "Now, where was Uncle Boris from?"

"Sofia?"

Just then, the buggy drove up the path to the Dowager's home. Damon grinned at Lena, and at Alaric, and they all exited the car. Lena fiddled with her dark blue dress, dropping her hands as the door was opened by a maid. Alaric was already smiling before he had heard the gasp of surprise. Caroline. The blonde bombshell appeared in the doorway, in her excitement shoving the maid out of her way. Distracted by this display, no one noticed poor Matthias, stuck behind the gate.

"Caroline!" Alaric exclaimed.

"Alaric!" the woman said in return, equally if not more enthusiastic. Alaric, his smile wider than ever, kissed Caroline, causing Lena to bite back a smile and Damon to chuckle under his breath. He cleared his throat and Caroline gently pushed Alaric away, beat red.

"Where are my manners?" she said, patting her dress to smooth invisible creases. "Come in, come in, everyone." Alaric she pulled in by his hand, and the other two followed them inside. Damon saw Matthias, who was barking wildly, but shut the door on the puppy just as he had popped through the gate's grates. He grinned to himself as he went on his way after Lena. Matthias ran to the flower box atop the nearest window and jumped up to peer into Annette's drawing room.

"May I present, her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Elena Katerina," Alaric announced.

"Oh my Heavens… She certainly does look like Elena." Damon was already smiling, as was Alaric. It was in the bag; Damon could feel it. "But so did many of the others…" Caroline folded her hands in her lap, fixing her attention on Lena. "Where were you born?"

"At the Katherine Palace."

"Correct." Caroline knew that all of the girls knew this, and was quick to come up with a question no one would guess. "And how does Elena like her tea?" Damon internally winced. They hadn't gone over that; he didn't even know.

"I don't like tea. Just hot water and lemon," Lena replied. She didn't hesitate at all, and Caroline couldn't help but be impressed, along with the men. The four were there for more than a couple hours going through a series of questions, from Elena's favorite color to her old stuffed animal toys from when she was a child. But finally, Caroline was at a loss. "Now, you'll most likely find this an impertinent question but… indulge me." Alaric and Damon leaned forward. "How did you escape during the siege of the palace?" Behind Lena, Damon put his head in his hands. _Shit with a capital shit._

But Lena wasn't worried. She sat across from Caroline and Alaric, thoughtful. Her eyebrows drew together as her mind worked, a faded scene washing into her mind. "There was a boy," she said. "A boy who worked in the palace." Picturing this in her mind, Lena brought her hand up to rest upon the air. "He opened a wall." Damon's eyes opened, his furrowed eyebrows slowly coming apart. What had she said?

"I'm sorry; I'm being crazy," Lena told Caroline, forcing a laugh. Where had that come from? Damon lifted his head to look at Lena. "That's ridiculous. Walls opening." Damon was slack jawed in his shock; how was it possible? How could she know? How could she know, unless she really was—

"So, what do you think? Is she a Petrova?" Alaric asked Caroline.

"Um, well, she answered every question." Caroline stood, holding the tea tray in her hands as she tried to smile.

"You hear that, Lena?" Alaric said, his smile huge. "You did it!" Lena stood to meet Alaric's embrace, while Damon was still reeling. Feeling sick, he had to leave the room. "So, when do we see the Empress?' Alaric inquired, not taking notice of this.

"I'm afraid you don't."

"Come again?"

Going to exit the room, Caroline told him, "The Empress simply won't allow it." Lena sat down heavily. She couldn't believe it. Was this entire endeavor a waste?

"Now, Caroline." Alaric stole the tray from her hands. "Surely you can think of some way to arrange a brief interview with the Dowager." Caroline took her silver platter back with a huff. "I refuse to budge until an answer occurs to you." Caroline looked up at Alaric, her lips pressed tightly together. "Please?"

"Oh, damn you." She turned to Lena. "Do you like the Russian Ballet? They're performing in Paris tonight. The Dowager Empress and I _never_ miss a show." She winked at them both and swiftly exited the room. Alaric made Caroline put down her tray so he could again kiss her, hugging her to him, before running in excitement from the house to find Damon. Lena laughed and smiled at Caroline, who returned these, rolling her eyes at Alaric's behavior.

"We did it!" Alaric shouted. "We're going to see the Imperial Highness tonight!" He grabbed Damon in a hug, spinning him beneath the tree had had been brooding by. "We're going to get the ten million levs!" During his rant, Damon was protesting, "'Ric, she _is_ the princess."

"Lena was extraordinary!" Alaric praised, not paying attention. Damon looked at his friend, reaching the verge of annoyance. "_I_ almost believed her! And Caroline?" Before Damon could say any more, Lena came rushing out the door.

"Caroline wants to take us shopping for the Ballet!" she exclaimed. "Shopping in Paris; can you believe it?" In the past five minutes alone, Damon couldn't quite believe a lot of things.


	11. Magnifique

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**A/N: The dress is the one she wore in **_**Dangerous Liaisons**_** because that dress is just beyond beautiful.**

**Chapter Ten-**

Acting as a fashion guru, Caroline brought Lena, Damon, and 'Ric to every boutique in Paris. Lena didn't care for most of the jewelry or gowns in them, however, seeing as she had never acquired much of a taste for such things. She would prefer a simpler dress, she thought, than what she had been seeing, but knew that it was _Paris_–where would she find something even remotely simple? Lena was afraid she had hurt Caroline's feelings, especially after all she had done already, but Caroline only winked and pulled her in a different direction. Damon followed slightly behind the rest, feeling a pit growing in his stomach; Alaric, smiling widely, strode right at Caroline's side where he belonged.

It was the boutique farthest from the others, small and didn't draw much attention to itself. Vibrant flowers hung in baskets, and the whole thing had the appearance of a cottage. Lena loved it immediately.

It was quiet inside, though music floated softly throughout the shop. Damon stopped next to her and she glanced at him. "So. Anything promising?" he inquired in a mutter.

She half-smiled at him, shaking her head. "No, not yet. But I'm holding out hope, for Caroline's sake."

The blond looked over at that moment, grinning. "What about this…?" The gown was sapphire blue with jewels across the bodice and transparent two-inch straps. It was beautiful, but not Lena's taste. She moved her eyes to Damon briefly, just to catch his reaction, but he wasn't looking at her anymore, or the dress.

He was rolling his eyes around the boutique tiredly, not quite looking, until he fell upon the most gorgeous dress he had ever seen. And imagine what it would look like on Lena. He stage-whispered to her in order to gain her attention. She looked to him quizzically from where she stood beside Caroline and Damon jutted his thumb at the gown. She froze, her mouth forming an _o_ as she hurried over, Caroline in the rear. Grazing the gown with her fingertips, as though afraid to touch it, Lena murmured, "It's perfect."

The color was a deep brown that Lena just knew would accent her eyes perfectly, and it shimmered until it reached the floor. A black satin strap rested below the bosom, and underneath the strap were black jewels that blended into the corset, hardly noticeable but absolutely splendid. It was the most amazing thing Lena had ever seen. Lifting her eyes from the dress, they found Damon's, gratefully, from beneath her lashes and he cleared his throat.

"I'll just… wait outside then," he said, bowing out. 'Ric smiled at the girls and exited as well.

"Try it on," Caroline told her, "and if you like we will get it for you." Lena nodded, eyes on the dress as she disappeared into a changing stall. Caroline sat outside the small area, humming to herself. Then she said, "I hope it isn't too rude of me to say, Elena, but… Damon is really something, yes?" She heard Lena pause in her rustling.

"I suppose he is, isn't he? I only just met him a few days ago…"

"Really? It seems as though you've known each other much longer than only that!" Except her _th_ came out as a _z_ in her French accent.

"Oh, does it?" Lena bit her lip, smoothing out her dress. It was even more gorgeous, somehow, when worn. "We're friends. He's been kind, so has Alaric."

Caroline giggled, brushing through her hair with her hand. "Yes; he has always been so. Are you ready?"

Lena stepped out, feeling self-conscious. "So what do you think?" she asked.

"_Hyper_! Ez _magnifique_!" When Caroline got excited, apparently her French broke through even more pronounced. "You must buy it, Elena, you must. You love it?"

Lena twirled slowly. "I do. But are you sure–"

"It would be crime not to buy this gown! Ez made for you! Go, go, get it off so we can buy and go; we must fix your hair and makeup, yes? Go!" Lena laughed, a smile pulling up her lips. Never in a million years had she thought she would be wearing a gown like this. But she'd also never thought she would be auditioning for the role of Elena Katerina Petrova…


	12. The Ballet

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction.**

**A/N: Can you spot the line fron TVD?**

**Chapter Eleven-**

It was closing in on the eighth mark, the time when the Ballet would be starting, and, meanwhile, Alaric stood pacing before Damon, fretting. "We don't have anything to be nervous about," Damon told him, seated on the steps of the great building. "She's the princess."

"I know, I know, but—"

Damon stood, aggravated. "No, you _don't_ know." After only a moment of hesitation he admitted, "_I_ was the boy, 'Ric, the one who opened the wall in the palace. She's the real thing."

Alaric stared at him, stunned. "That means–our Lena…" His dropped jaw pulled into a smile. "She has found her family. We have found the heir to the Russian throne! And, you—"

"Will walk out of her life forever," Damon said. "Princesses don't marry kitchen boys." Seeing that Alaric was ready to protest, Damon continued firmly, "We are going to go through with this, 'Ric, as though nothing has changed."

"You've got to tell her," Alaric told him.

"Tell me what?"

Damon glanced back quickly, Alaric's eyes drifting from his friend's face to Lena's. There she stood, a fine fur lined coat draped over her petite figure. Her hair was done in an elegant fashion, and jewels sparkled on her ears and around her throat. Damon pulled his hat off of his head.

"Uh–how… beautiful you look," he managed to muster.

"Well," Elena replied, shyly, "thank you."

Damon offered her his arm with a smile, and she accepted it as Caroline appeared to take Alaric's. When they had all entered, Alaric and Caroline had already disappeared when Damon was handing Elena's coat over to a coat check. He was just turning around as Elena reached the top of the staircase, all eyes on her as they had been in the fairytale of Cinderella and her entrance to the Prince's ball.

She looked expectantly down at Damon, whose mouth had once again fallen open. He hadn't believed she could become any more mesmerizing, and yet he knew she always managed to surprise him.

He cleared his throat and hurried up to meet her, whispering in her ear, "You look stunning, if it isn't obvious." Elena smiled modestly, and a minute later they were being seated in the theatre.

As they settled into their seats, Damon withdrew a set of binoculars from his jacket. "Look, there she is," he told Lena, allowing her to look through the opera glasses. She focused on her grandmother and Caroline, who gestured a little inconspicuous wave to Lena.

"Please let her remember me…" Lena murmured to herself.

Throughout the procession of the show, Lena was so nervous she had twisted her handout into nothing. Soon, she began to tear it into pieces, seemingly without even realizing it. Damon, amused, entwined her fingers between his and quietly assured her, "Everything's going to be fine." She returned his smile with one of her own and was able to relax for the remainder of the show, their hands never parting.

"Come on," he said, amidst the raucous applause, "guess it's time." Elena's eyes widened, allowing their hands to drop, and as they walked down the gorgeously lit hallway, Damon told her, "Relax; you're going to be great." Elena abruptly turned around, giving up, and Damon laughed as he went after her. "Hey," he said, grabbing her shoulders to bring her back, "deep breath. Everything's going to be fine, remember?"

Holding her hand as they came upon the Empress' ornate red door, Damon faced Elena. "Wait here a second, okay? I'll go in and announce you properly." He went to go in, but she didn't release his fingers from hers.

"Damon."

He stopped. "Yes?"

"Look, we've been through… a lot together and…" Elena paused and he leaned forward, an eager smile gracing his lips. "Well, I just… I just wanted to…" She dropped her eyes, unable to look at his a second longer without falling apart. "…to thank you. I guess." She forced herself to lift her gaze back to his face. "Thank you for everything."

Damon turned away, disappointed, but then, steeling himself, began, "Lena, I—"

"Yes?" Elena said, appearing nervous but hopeful.

"I–I'm–uh…"

Stepping closer, Elena repeated, "_Yes_?"

He squeezed her hand once, hoping his fake smile wasn't too explicit with his melancholy. "I wanted to wish you good luck."

Elena's features drooped. "Oh." Both feeling utter disappointment, Damon couldn't believe it as he watched himself, as though someone else, stick his hand forward to shake Elena's.

"So good luck." She took his hand and stared at him. He felt sick and dropped the handshake abruptly. "Well, here goes." He entered, but the door which was supposed to shut behind him… didn't. "Please inform Her Majesty that I have found her granddaughter, the Grand Duchess Elena. She's waiting to see her grandmother and just outside the door. Caroline, smiling widely, played her part famously.

"I'm very sorry, young man, but the Empress will see no one." In reality, Caroline was pushing Damon along to enter, but they both froze when Annette said, "You will tell that impertinent young man that I have seen enough 'Grand Duchess Elena's' to last me a lifetime."

"Please," Damon tried, "let me just show you—"

"Now if you'll excuse me," the Empress interrupted, holding up a finger to stop him, "I wish to live out the remainder of my lonely life in peace."

Caroline, frowning sadly, untied the curtain holders and said to Damon, "I'll see you to the door." She hurried to it while Damon spun back around and through the curtain.

"Your Majesty, I intend you no harm," he told Annette as soon as he sat beside her. She leaned away from him, her eyes wide. "My name is Damon; I used to work at the palace."

"Well, that's one I haven't heard, I must say." She stood, slapping the handout onto her seat before going to exit.

Damon jumped over his chair. "Wait, please, if you'll just hear me out—"

"I know what you're after!" snapped Annette, accusation clear in her tone. "I've seen it before." Throwing open the curtain, she continued, "Men who train young women in the royal ways in order to deceive me."

"But if Your Highness would just _listen_—"

Outside the door, Elena stood against the wall, her eyebrows furrowing as she heard this.

"Haven't _you_ been listening?" the Duchess demanded. "I've had enough. I don't care how much you've fashioned this girl to look like her or act like her because in the end, it never _is_ her."

"But this time it _is_ really her!" Damon nearly shouted in his frustration.

"Damon," the Empress spoke his name in disdain. "I've heard of you. You're that conman from Varna who was holding _auditions_ to find an Elena lookalike, isn't that right?" Elena gasped in the hall, her gloved hand flying to her mouth while, inside, Annette was sitting herself on a loveseat.

"But Your Grace," Damon pressed, falling to his knees before her, "we've come all the way from Bulgaria just to see you—"

"And others have come from Timbuktu."

"It's not that; it's not what you think—" His hand fell upon hers and she got to her feet.

"How much pain will you inflict upon an old woman for money?" As two bodyguards appeared to remove Damon, Caroline was stunned, while Annette turned away, keeping her misty eyes hidden.

"But I'm telling you," Damon shouted as he was dragged away, "she _is_ the Grand Duchess; if you'd only speak to her you'd see!" The men threw him out through the partially opened door at Elena's feet and slammed it behind him. She had jumped back slightly, and she now stood staring down at him. Mouth open, his gaze lifted up to hers.

"It was all a lie, wasn't it?" she said. Her voice was deadly soft. "You _used_ me?" Damon got to his feet, disheveled, and was pushed back as Elena continued, "I was all a part of your con to get her _money_?"

"No no no no–Look, it may have started out that way but everything's different now!" he told her as she walked away. "You really _are_ Elena!"

She spun on him, her face scrunched in sadness and defeat. "Stop it!" Then, anger replaced her despondence. She swatted at his chest, shoving him backwards. "From the very minute we met, from the very beginning you _lied_! And I not only _believed_ you, I actually—" She made a disgusted sound aimed at herself, her hands flying up in rage. She turned around with a sob and he hurried in front of her. When she refused to stop, he was forced to walk backwards.

"Lena, please, just listen to me! When you spoke of the hidden door of the wall opening, and the boy, that was m—"

Elena, anger filling her, shouted, "No! I don't want to hear about anything that I said or remembered; you just leave me _alone_!" When he wouldn't release her arm, she reached back with her right hand and sent a stinging slap against his cheek. He stumbled as she stalked away, a group of men and even women blocking his way to her.

"Lena, please; you have to know the truth!" he yelled over them. But she ignored him.


	13. Driving Her Mad

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter Twelve- **

Damon had really stepped in it this time. Amid his shambled thoughts of Lena and the horrific events of that night, he could hear the clicking of heels on stone. He glanced behind the pillar he was leaning against to see the Dowager. Time to put his (hastily put together) plan into action. He removed his hat and hurried after her.

The driver greeted the Empress with a bow as he helped her into the car, her head never even tilting his way. Why allow anyone to see her puffy eyes? The chauffeur shut the door, unaware of Damon opening the driver's side door and slipping onto the seat. He hit the gas while, behind the car, the chauffeur shouted at Damon to stop. He did not, however, and the Dowager's previously closed eyes shot open as they catapulted down the road.

"Alexandre!" exclaimed Her Majesty angrily. "What on Earth do you think you're doing? Slow down this instant!"

Damon turned around to see her. "I'm not Alexandre, and I won't slow down–not until you listen."

Annette gaped at the sight of Damon in her car, her eyes and dropped mouth displaying her evident shock. "You! How dare you? Stop this car immediately!" He continued to ignore her, his mouth set. It wasn't like she would be able to safely jump from the car. And so, he did not say a word, swerving and slipping around corners and other vehicles until they reached Sophie's house.

Damon jumped from the car and walked to the Dowager's door, behind which she sat with her chin up, her gloved hands resting atop her cane. He yanked open the door and glared at her. "You have to talk to her! Just _look_ at her, please!"

The Empress narrowed her eyes at him. "I will not be badgered by you a moment longer." And with that, she looked forward once more. This could _not_ be happening. He was so close, _Lena_ was so close. There was no way in hell he was going to just give up when she was just behind that door…

He reached into his pocket and removed the jewelry box, dropping to one knee. "Do you remember this?" he asked Annette. Her eyes flicked down to the golden box, and a gasp escaped her as her hand reflexively reached for it. "I know you've been hurt," Damon told her. "But it's just possible that she's been as lost and alone as you."

After another moment, Annette lowered the box to look at Damon. "You'll stop at nothing, will you?"

"What can I say?" he replied, a slow smile creeping onto his lips as he erected himself. "I'm probably about as stubborn as you are." He outstretched one arm towards the house in an invitation. All he could do now was pray that she would accept it.


	14. The Reunion, the Departed

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**A/N: Get the 'joke' from the title? And the quote from the show?**

**Chapter Thirteen- **

Lena's tears had since stopped, and now she stood stuffing her few folded clothes and belongings into her suitcase. She hadn't even changed out of her beautiful gown, but now the shimmering only made her feel sad. A knock sounded at her door, and her face crinkled. "Go away, Damon. You're the last person I need to see right now."

The door opened, letting the light from the hallway filter into the room as the Empress entered without a word. Lena turned around, already about to weep and scream simultaneously. Instead, upon seeing who had come in, she drew in a startled breath. "I'm sorry! I–I thought you were—"

"I know very well who you thought I was," said Annette, stepping further inside. "Who exactly are _you_?"

Her hands clasped to her stomach, Lena managed, "I was hoping _you_ could tell me." The Dowager walked around her, examining her for only a second before facing the large balcony and gazing out at the city. "My dear, I'm old, and I'm tired of being conned and tricked."

Lena spun to look at her. "I don't want to trick you!"

Annette faced her. "And I suppose the money doesn't interest you either?"

Shaking her head, Lena told her, "I just want to know who I am. Whether or not I belong to a family–your family."

The Empress looked at her with a sad smile. "You're a very good actress. The best yet, in fact, but… I've had enough."

As Annette walked past her, Elena's eyebrows lifted. "Peppermint?"

The Dowager paused. "Oil, yes, for my hands."

"Yes…" Elena moved out onto the balcony, grasping at straws in her memory. "I spilled a bottle, the carpet was soaked, and from then on it always smelled like peppermint." She unconsciously reached for her necklace, playing with it with a smile and laugh as she recalled this incident. "Like you."

Her eyes fixed upon Elena, Annette dropped slowly onto the seat of the vanity. "I used to lie there on that rug and breathe it in… I missed you so much when you were away." Lena paused, looking around as though broken from a trance. "When you came here. To Paris." She lifted her hand to her head, feeling faint. The Dowager, a wide smile appearing on her face, patted the bench she was sitting on. Lena obliged and sat beside her.

Noticing her chain, Annette gently inquired, "What is that?"

"This? I've always had it, ever since before I can remember."

"May I?" asked Annette, raising her hand. Lena nodded and removed the necklace to hand to Annette. Staring down at it, she felt her heart skip. "It was our secret. My Elena's and mine." She took the music box in her other hand, showing them to Lena, who smiled.

"The music box! To–to sing me to sleep when you were in Paris!" Lena began to hum her song from what felt like so long before, but this time, it had different words. She turned the charm into the keyhole and the top lifted, its tune beginning while its dancers twirled. "Hear this song and remember…"

Her eyes wet, Annette joined her. "Soon you'll be home with me, once upon a December. Oh, Elena. My Elena." Joyfully they embraced, neither able to believe that this moment had really come for them, but both with tears of happiness running down their cheeks.

Outside, having heard bits of this reunion, Damon kissed his hand and sent it to the young woman in the room above him. _I will always choose you. _With this final thought, he walked on down the sidewalk. He had done everything he needed to. _Goodbye, Lena._

Well… almost everything.


	15. I Should Go

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**A/N: Remember this song (the title of this chap) from the show? **

Though they had hardly been able to bear being apart for even a moment after their reunion, both Elena and her grandmother took their time in relieving themselves of their makeup and dresses to put on their nightwear. Now, as they reminisced, the women sat on loveseats pulled to face one another.

Elena was studying a photograph taken of herself and her family, only days before her dreadful birthday night so long ago. "I loved them so much," she murmured, almost to herself. The revelations she had come to face in such a short time should have been overwhelming, but the only thing overwhelming for Elena was the fact that, for so long, she had forgotten what an incredible and loving family she had had as a little girl. And they were gone. She hadn't even properly mourned them.

"They would not want us to live in the past," Annette told her granddaughter, leaning forward to gently squeeze her hand. "Not now, when we've found each other again." Elena nodded and Annette looked back to the basket beside her, smiling as she retrieved some sort of picture. "Look here! The drawing you gave me! Remember?"

Elena smiled and took it in her hands, giggling at the colored sketch of a young girl with curls seated on a bench. "Yes! Jeremiah made me so mad when he said it looked like a fat little pig riding a donkey!" She and the Dowager laughed and Elena added, grimacing jokingly, "He was right."

Standing and reaching for Elena's hand, Annette sighed. "In your laughter I once again hear my Grayson, your father." She paused, stepping towards a stool upon which an exquisite box was placed. She opened it, revealing a gorgeous diamond crown. Seeing this, Elena drew in a breath. "But," Annette continued, moving to place the crown on Elena's head, "you have the beauty of your mother, Katerina." She turned Elena to look at herself in the large mirror on the wall beside them.

In all of her wildest dreams, never had Elena imagined this.

It was for that following night the Dowager called for a party to be held in honor of the returned Grand Duchess Elena, and now the subject of the ball stood before her mirror in awe, draped in a golden gown that was wrapped in a sheen of transparent, shimmering fabric. Atop her perfectly done hair sat the crown from the night prior, shining as brightly, if not more, as it had then. She could not have felt more beautiful and, while a certain man was shoved into the recesses of her mind, he himself was just upstairs.

Damon faced the Dowager from a good distance away, his hands behind his back as he bowed in respect. "You sent for me, Your Grace?" he said to her.

Annette motioned to the chest on the wooden desk next to her. "Ten million rubles, as promised," she said, "along with my gratitude."

"I accept your gratitude, your Highness," Damon told her, his normally sharp eyes soft and dull, "but uh… I don't want the money."

The Dowager eyed him, questioning. "What _do_ you want then?"

Damon hesitated only a moment before telling her, "Unfortunately, nothing you can give." He bowed once more and then turned for the door. Annette called out to him and he paused, looking back to her as she asked, "Where did you get that music box?" When she received no response, she went on, already sure she knew the answer, "You were the boy, weren't you? The servant boy who got us out?" Damon refused to meet her steady gaze. "You saved her life, and mine. You restored her to me. And yet…. You want no reward."

"Not anymore," he replied laconically.

"Why the change in mind?"

He thought briefly, and then admitted, "It was more a change of heart, Your Grace." He bent in a bow and ducked quickly from the room, missing Annette's smile. On the grand stairwell, he ran into Elena. At the sight of him she smiled, but the reminder of what he had done clouded her mind and it fell. She looked so incredibly beautiful, and all he could do was stare at the carpet as he went by. But Elena, ever the stubborn woman, said in a steely voice, "Hello, Damon."

He paused and greeted her much the same, his own voice taut. "Did you collect your reward?" she asked him, as though already aware of what he would say.

"My business is complete." He was already moving forward down the stairs when a butler spoke from the lowest level, "Young man, you will bow and address the Princess as Your Highness."

Elena frowned, her cheeks reddening despite herself. "That isn't neces—"

"No," Damon interrupted, lifting a hand, "Please." He bowed and said in a clear tone, "Your Highness." His gaze met hers as he erected himself and told her, "I'm glad you found what you were looking for."

"Yes. I'm glad you did too." Her dark eyes betrayed her, however, and Damon could see she meant none of this. He knew it would be wise to leave.

"Well," he said, "goodbye then." Mimicking his earlier actions and muttering another respectful term, Damon printed one last image of Elena into his mind before continuing down the stairs. He only just kept himself from running, and even then was gone too fast to have been able to hear Elena's quiet goodbye.


	16. Second Guessing

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. **

**Chapter 15- **

Alaric was adjusting the jacket of his tux before the mirror when Damon entered the room. Both Matthias' and Alaric's gazes went to him. Damon was without his usual smile, Alaric noticed, and his eyes seemed to have lost their excited glow as he lifted his packed bag onto his shoulder.

"See you around, 'Ric," Damon said, trying to sound more chipper than he felt. "Find me if you ever come back to Bulgaria, alright?"

Alaric, having been watching Damon in the mirror, turned then to face him. "I know I must've said this before," he acknowledged, "but you're making a mistake."

"Trust me. This is the one thing I know to be right." Damon stepped forward, his hand extended. Alaric accepted it, only to pull his friend into a tight hug. A moment passed before Damon side-stepped him to confront a whimpering Matt. "So long, mutt." The puppy licked his hand and the tiniest hint of a smile appeared on Damon's lips. "I can't stay. I don't belong here."

And with that, Damon stood and left the room, unable to look back at Alaric or Elena's dog as he did so.

It was several hours later that Elena found herself in the ballroom of her grandmother's palace. She was standing behind the heavy curtains, peeping out at all of the guests that had come that night, just to celebrate her. Elena could hardly believe it was actually real. One moment she had been so alone, and the next she found herself surrounded by people.

But they were all strangers. And maybe that made her feel more isolated than ever.

Suffice to say, Elena wasn't quite sure what she was feeling that night. All she knew was that, searching the crowds, her eyes most wanted to land on the one person she knew for a fact wouldn't be there.

"He isn't here," Annette suddenly spoke up from behind Elena. Startled, Elena jumped, but seeing it was only her grandmother allowed her tensed body to settle once more.

"Who isn't?"

The Duchess saw right through her granddaughter's feigned ignorance. "The young man with the music box."

"Of course he isn't. I'm sure he's off trying to spend his reward money as fast as he can." Even Elena could hear how bitter she sounded. She turned away, hoping that by doing so Annette at least wouldn't be able to read her face. The guests were still dancing, as though without a care in the world. If only they knew how heavy Elena's heart weighed in her chest.

"It's remarkable, isn't it?" her grandmother spoke up after a moment had passed. "This world you were born to, of glittering jewels and gowns. But I still wonder if it is what you truly want."  
Elena spun to look at her. "Of course it is, Grandmamma! I found out who I am, I found you."

"Yes, you did find me. And you will always have me." Elena embraced her tightly, unable to help herself as tears formed in her brown eyes. Annette pulled back to look at her. "My Elena. You must know… he did not take the reward."

"He–He didn't take the money?" Elena repeated, unable to believe it.

"You cannot make a choice without knowing all you can. But I promise: whatever it is you decide, we will always have one another." Annette squeezed Elena's hand before pushing her way through the curtains, leaving Elena alone.

For a moment, all she could do was stand still. Then, resolutely, she straightened her shoulders. A slim hand lifted towards the curtain.


	17. Scars On My Back

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction. I do not own the line from Bad Blood by Taylor Swift that I used as a title for this chapter. All rights for these things go to the rightful owners. **

**A/N: One more chapter! We made iiiiit! **

**Chapter 16- **

Before Elena could take a single step, Matthias began to bark from behind. Surprised, his owner looked at him in question. His barks never ceasing, Matt took off out the terrace doors. Elena frowned, her hand slipping back to her side as she hurried after him. Her beautiful gown and heels weren't the best things to move quickly in, but her concern overshadowed this.

"Matthias!" Elena called, her eyes scanning the grounds for her puppy. All she could hear were his hysterical barks, fading in and out of hearing range. A shadow moved at Elena's back, but she paid this no mind as she strained to hear Matthias, moving further into the gardens. It became darker as she did so, the light and music of the party left behind.

Elena again shouted the dog's name, her worry mounting by the second. If only she would spare a glance at the path behind her, she would see the darkness trailing, slithering eerily after her steps.

Damon stood next in the ticket line, repeating in his mind the resolution he had felt hours before. His hand went for the train ticket from his pocket, but instead came up with the crushed rose from the night of shopping in Paris. He had given it to Elena, but after everything she had forced herself to pass it on to Alaric, having requested that he return it to Damon for her. Now, his eyes flooded with the image of Elena in all her beauty and heart, Damon was frozen as to what he honestly wanted.

"You're next."

Damon couldn't move. What was he supposed to do?

It had only been five minutes in the gardens but already, alone and seemingly walking deeper into the black horizon, Elena was at a loss. All was silent, and she was afraid. She turned in circles, glancing frantically around for any hint of something familiar. But there was nothing.

Matthias' barks began again, and this time Elena didn't try to worry over her dress. She ran towards the sound, catching sight of Matt jumping in front of a hedge. She went to him, saying, "Here, boy, here Mattie!" but the pup ignored her. Elena looked around then, and saw that behind her was a large wall of green. It blocked her way out. But where had it come from? It hadn't been there just a moment ago!

Her confusion becoming a mist in her mind, Elena was sure she had to be hallucinating when the walls began to grow, enveloping her inside a tight box. She was trapped. This couldn't be possible. It couldn't be real. But it was. Matt barked angrily at her side, the shadows surrounding them both. Spotting the tiniest opening in the green, Elena scooped Matthias into her arms and hurtled her way through it. All the while, a voice hissed at her, "_Elena_… _Elena_…"  
She found herself in another portion of the garden, but saw she was free. For a moment.

"Elena."  
Elena spun round to come face to face with… She couldn't really tell. The man was just a figure beneath the moonlight. He was lazily holding some sort of small club in his one hand–a stake; it seemed to be wrapped in a length of white, emanating supernatural forces. The oddly captivating wooden stake behind his back, he bowed. It was patronizing, the worst kind of fakery, and Elena had to force her legs to remain still.

"Your Imperial Highness." His voice was smooth as silk as he took a step closer. The moonlight struck him, and Elena stared.

"That face…" she murmured, her brain working to remember why she knew him, why he seemed to know her.

"Last seen at a party, much like this one."

"A curse…"

His face twisted into a cruel smile. "That the best you can do? So much like your mother–utterly useless."

And suddenly, like two pieces of the same puzzle coming together, Elena remembered.

"Niklaus," she spat at the man.

"Indeed. Destroyed by your despicable family. But you know what they say, don't you? What goes around…" Three more men appeared out of the dark; they circled Elena threateningly. She backed away from their pointed teeth, red-veined faces, and was forced to stop when a tree pressed against her back.

"No. Get away from me," she told them all. She couldn't hide her terror, and Niklaus couldn't hide his delight.

Elena desperately looked around for anything that could get her out of this situation. Just when she thought she wouldn't stand a chance, her panicked gaze fell upon a stick. It was right beside her foot, as though waiting for her to use. So she did.

She swooped down and held it in her white-knuckled grasp, pointing towards the vampires before her. Cowards as they were, moving away from her for fear of being dusted. But Elena didn't want them to be afraid.

She wanted them gone.

It took all of a minute for her to stake the men, spinning to face Niklaus once it was over. Their eyes locked and, though his smile was still locked in place, his own blue gaze betrayed to Elena his surprise.

"I'm not afraid of you," she told him. "Not now, not ever."

"I can fix that, love," Niklaus assured her, wicked. "And there won't be anyone to save you."

"Care to make a bet on that?"

Neither the vampire nor Elena could believe it when they saw Damon charging forward. His fist made contact with Niklaus' nose, sending him to the ground. Damon refused to cry out in pain for his hand as he ran for Elena.

Unable to think of anything useful to say, she managed, "If we live through this, remind me to thank you."

"Thank me later."

"How adorable," Niklaus shouted, his face red in anger. "Together again. For the last time." Another threesome of vampires rushed to the scene, but this time they went for Damon. They dragged him away while he kicked at them, flailing and shouting profanities. Elena was unable to go after him; Niklaus had suddenly appeared in her face.

"It appears as though we've come full circle," he said. "I will, at long last, be given the right I have been owed–the death of Elena Petrova."  
"You'll have to wait a bit longer," she bit off, attempting to move around him to Damon. He was fending off the vampires as best he could, but it was only a matter of time. Niklaus grabbed Elena before she could get too far, his arm around her collarbone. The hand gripping the stake clasped painfully against her shoulder.

"That may be a problem. You see, I'm not one for patience." He opened his mouth, his veins and fang teeth appearing in that split second. His growl became a scream as he felt Matthias' tiny teeth sink into the skin at his ankle. He was more surprised than anything, but the sharp pain still allowed Elena to duck out from beneath Niklaus' momentarily loosened grip. Along with her body, from his hands she ripped the intricate white stake.

"And I'm not one to enjoy near-death experiences," she retorted. "But I can't seem to avoid them with you."

Niklaus charged furiously at Elena, so quickly that she wasn't able to raise the stake to his chest. As though she had never left, Elena again found herself entangled in his unnaturally strong hold. "Stop playing games with me, little girl. I haven't the time." He squeezed her tightly.  
"And here I was thinking you were immortal," Elena choked out.

"Cute. Drop it." When she refused to oblige the vampire crushed her neck harder, and Elena had to release the stake from her hand for loss of breath. Niklaus tossed it behind them carelessly. "Now. I believe I'd like to pick up where we left off."

"Damon!" Elena tried to shout, but her throat was too constricted. Damon was nowhere in sight. Where had he gone?

"Long live the Petrovas," Niklaus hissed, his needle-pointed teeth less than an inch from Elena's neck. They had only just grazed the skin there when he suddenly lurched forward, his eyes popping out of his head.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Damon announced, standing in the place beside Elena that Niklaus had been just a moment ago.

The vampire managed three words of loathing and obscenity before the white stake resting in his back sent his smoking body into a fireball of scorching flames. Damon grabbed Elena and pulled her away from the scene as Niklaus burned, screaming all the while.

Elena and Damon were pressed against a hedge. It was closer to the palace; they could even hear some of the lilting dance music coming from the party inside. Elena felt in shock, if she were being honest, and Damon could only sit silently beside her in wait for her to say something, anything.

"I thought you were going back. To Bulgaria."

Damon looked at her. He shrugged. "I was going to."

"But you didn't?"

"I couldn't."  
Elena turned to him, then. "Why not?"

"Lena. Elena." Damon sighed. "I…" She stared, waiting, but Matthias' barks interrupted his words. In his mouth Matt held the crown. Elena had dropped it some time ago and hadn't even noticed in her fright and haste. Damon took the glittering crown from the dog and held it out to its owner. "They're all waiting for you."

Elena looked hard at the crown, then back to Damon.

"Let them wait."


	18. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie **_**Anastasia**_** or **_**Vampire Diaries**_**; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from **_**Anastasia**_** that I have in this fanfiction.**

Annette stared at the satin-lined box, beside which rested the glittering crown Elena had left behind. In her hands, the Duchess held a note from her granddaughter.

_Dear Grandmother, _

_Thank you for everything. I have every confidence _

_that we will be together again soon._

_Wish us luck, _

_Elena and Damon _

"So they've eloped," Annette murmured, a small smile on her lips at the signatures.

"Isn't it romantic?" Caroline said, her eyes falling on Alaric standing respectfully in the doorway. He smiled at her.

"Very," the Duchess agreed. "Pack away the crown, Caroline. It will be here waiting for Elena, whenever she wants it."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Annette stood near the terrace, her eyes focused on a riverboat steaming away in the distant. Her smile became bigger at the sight.

"A perfect ending," Caroline added, the closed box in her arms as she came to stand beside the Duchess.

Annette shook her head just slightly, contemplative. "I would say it is more like their perfect beginning."


End file.
